


"Red"

by dietpitt



Category: Gravity Falls, Swooning Over Stans: A Grunkle Dating Simulator - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Ford is off tagging mushroom creatures and recording their migration patterns, Long-Distance Relationship, MILFs, Post-Finale, Post-Weirdmageddon, Reunion Sex, Stan O' War II, Stan gets to literally rock the boat, Swooning Over Stans: A Grunkle Dating Simulator, They finally fuck y’all, or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dietpitt/pseuds/dietpitt
Summary: Local grandma Bri reminisces on her wild summer last year, when she crashed into the life of Stan Pines and his family. She still has feelings for him, but it’s been ages since they’ve called or messaged and she’s determined to move on.Until, of course, her phone buzzes and a familiar name flashes across the screen.





	"Red"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cottoncandy-lion](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cottoncandy-lion).



> Commission from my tumblr featuring a pal's @cottoncandy-lion's gransona for Swooning Over Stans: A Grunkle Dating Sim! A fanfic for my own fanfiction. Amazing...
> 
>  It's about time MILFs got in on some of that Grunkle Action, don't you think?
> 
> God it was so fun writing Stan actually taking someone back to his boat and doing the deed there lmao
> 
> tumblr post: dietpitt.tumblr.com/post/185833338645/red-stan-pines-x-oc

 

 

Bri doesn’t typically have enough time on her hands for her mind to wander. She’s a woman with shit to do: bills to pay, lives to save, birdhouses to paint, people to knit for… 

And  _yet_ , she finds herself reminiscing on the events of last June more and more as time goes on. 

That summer, that oddball Pines family, that weird old Shack she crashed into… it was all so  _bizarre_. Even now, there were times when it felt too surreal, too good to be true; surely, she had to have made it all up in her head. 

It wasn’t  _totally_  impossible… Unusual, yes, but she did work in a practical fun-house of diseases… a fever dream paired with too much wine, and who knows what could happen? 

But the most gripping of memories—ones so clear and persistent they refused to be ignored—all centered around him: the brash yet charming Stan Pines. One thought of his charisma and brazen attitude would have the sounds of his laughter echoing through her head, which was always the start of trouble… Bri’s consciousness would run away from her, lingering on the memory of his strong, sure arms holding her as they danced, the ghost of his hands on her waist, imprint of his lips on her neck sometimes so vivid they seemed  _seared into her skin_ — 

Needless to say, it could result in a dropped stitch or two. 

It wasn’t like she was  _smitten_ —she’s had her fair share of love affairs, and with two generations of little ones in her life, she’s seen a hell of a lot. She certainly didn’t expect anything more to come of the fun she had with Stan when they parted ways.  

At least… she knew she shouldn’t… but maybe it was okay that she wanted something more? But one certainly couldn’t expect something like last summer to happen to the same person  _twice_.

Bri held onto that sentiment, right up until she received a text one evening that made her jump out of her skin. 

_< ( Heya Red! ) _

_< ( how’s it hanging doll? ) _

_< ( bet you missed me! ) _

_……_

_< ( shit, this is Stan by the way ) _

_< ( hope I still got the right number ) _

_< ( this is Bri right? ) _

“Holy fuck,” Bri blurts out. She even blinks twice, fixing her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she stares stunned at the notification on her phone screen. Disbelief eases into utter delight before ebbing into mild panic. 

Her charcoal sketch ruined from her idle movement of her hands, Bri quickly sets her stuff aside to wash before touching her phone. As she lathers up, she’s almost giddy at the thought that he’s reached out again; much longer and she would have contacted him herself. 

Truth be told, it hadn’t been  _that_  long since they’d gone back and forth a bit with messages and a phone call here and there. But anyone that knew Bri was aware of the fact that she could certainly be stubborn when rubbed the wrong way, and  _he’d_  stopped contacting  _her_  completely around the year mark of their meeting. After months of consistent pictures and video calls, they simply slowly fizzled out, and while Bri isn’t petty, she doesn’t care to wait around without promise.

Hands dried and thoughts (mostly) in order, she heads back to the living room and starts typing her response. 

_( Hi Stan. Yes, this is still Bri! ) > _

_( Nice to hear you’re not dead! ) > _

_( …You’re not dead, right? I’m not texting a resurrected zombie? ) >  _

_< ( Ha ha nope, not dead yet anyway. You up for a call? ) _

Bri’s heart skips a beat. 

_( Of course ) > _

Seconds later, the phone starts to play its standard jingle, vibrating with Stan’s name and picture across the screen. Thank God he’s not video calling this time—the bags under her eyes aren’t the ideal reunion look. 

“ _Reeeddd_ , how are ya, gorgeous?” Stan drawls the nickname out, sounding genuinely delighted. 

“Hey,” is all she can think to say, smiling to herself at the comfortable familiarity they slip into. 

His excitement is contagious and his rough voice inescapably gives Bri goosebumps. “Where ya been, Pines?” 

“’ _Pines?_ ’ Aw Red, don’t be that way! I didn’t mean t’leave ya hangin’—honest!” The connection on his end is a bit crusty with what sounds like gusts of wind hitting the receiver. 

“Yeah I know, I’m just giving you a hard time. I’m sure the reception inside the Bermuda Triangle is complete shit,” she chuckles. 

Stan laughs along with her. “Well, yer not wrong. Hey, funny story ‘bout that place—s’not the water suckin’ all those ships up! But I’ll have to tell ya ‘bout that later.” His tone straightens out just a tad in preparation of something. 

“So, uh, Ford and I are comin’ back through the pacific northwest coast—we’re at the top of Canada right now, where I’m freezin’ my ass off even though Ford says s’not nearly as cold as it should be—” 

“Stan..”

Normally Bri would enjoy his tangents, but she wanted to make sure he was getting at what she thought he was getting at. 

“Right, right,” he clears his throat before continuing. “Well, we’re gonna make a stop in Gravity Falls to visit the Shack before seein’ the kids down in California. Before we head inland, Ford needs t’collect more samples y’know, update some data from around the coast, so he’s gonna be goin’ off all around.” 

“Sounds fun…” 

“Well uh, so, I was wonderin’… if you’re not busy this week, and you’d be up for it, maybe… we could get together? I mean, I could hang back at the boat, or come t’you in Salem, I wouldn’t mind drivin’ and I wouldn’t wanna make ya come out here when I invited ya an’ yer actually on the way anyway. I just thought it might be fun since ya didn’t get t’see the Stan O’ War b’fore and Ford’d be off diggin’ up dirt somewhere so we’d be on our own this time.”  

“Stan, tha—” 

He seems to backtrack, words hurried and suddenly unsure. 

“I know it’s kinda outta the blue and y’got yer job an’  _shit_ , y’got  _kids_ , s’not like you can just drop everythin’ when I haven’t even talked t’ya lately— we can do a rain check—” 

“ _Stanley!!_  I’d love to come!” 

“Really??” 

“Yes, really! A getaway trip to the beach with an old friend? I’m in.” 

“Hot pumpkin pie! Sure you don’t mind the commute, Red?” 

“’Course not! I have a day off from the hospital coming up, so we could make it a long weekend. Besides, since the grandkid started school again last month, it’ll just be me all by my lonesome for a while. A short road trip to the sea will do me good.” 

“Red, that’s great! Ah man, I’ll get t’give you the grand tour, show ya all the spooky junk we’ve been collectin’…” 

“It’ll be great to pick up where we left off,” Bri teased, echoing their parting words from that faithful June. 

“Y-yeah—long overdue,” Stan laughs. “Well, I gotta go help Ford lift some cargo. Send ya the info later?” 

“Definitely! See you soon, Stan.” 

“See ya, Red.”

* * *

 

It’s Thursday evening, and Bri is now only an hour away or so from the docks down by the Oregon bay. Smooth sailing so far, with only a couple of stops for food and gas, as she thankfully has her audiobook to keep her company. 

It’s funny, being out on a road trip again so soon, under drastically different circumstances. Not only is it the opposite direction, but meeting Stan Pines and his brother wouldn’t be at the expense of her car and weeks of her life. 

The entire thing really is serious déjà vu. As she packed her weekend bags, Bri found herself fretting about what to wear, much like before her and Stan’s big diner date. She even packed the same red jumpsuit she wore that night before realizing and replacing it with a newer dress he wouldn’t have seen yet. 

She didn’t really know what to properly expect from this weekend… she knew deeply what she  _wanted_ , and had an inkling that Stan very likely wanted the same on at least some level… I mean, c’mon… he wants to ‘show her his boat’? ‘Give her the tour’? He definitely wants to fuck. 

And, while she may be too mature for booty calls, it’s clear this isn’t the case with… whatever it is Bri and Stan are. Frankly, she doesn’t care all that much about that now—she just wants to see him again and have a good time, which should be no problem. 

She makes great time, in no small part thanks to being an Oregon native who knows her way around, and before long she’s pulling up into the tolled parking area near the port. With her duffel bag in one hand and her phone in the other, she confirms the location before proceeding to the docks.

She finds the dock number easily (number 618), and right there in its spot is a big grey trawler with all kinds of antenna and scientific odds and ends along the mast. There’s no mistaking the vessel—Stan’s name is right there in red paint along the bottom.

Bri sets her duffel down and cups her hands around her mouth, hoping her voice carries. 

“HEY, 618! BOAT POLICE, OPEN UP!!” 

It’s a beat before a gruff voice replies and the man pops into view. 

“My life of crime, it haunts me both on land and at sea! Will I ever find peace in this world?!” Stan pops into view dramatically over the boat’s edge, a hand pressed to his forehead in mock dismay. 

Bri smiles, always glad when he plays along. She makes a fake pistol with her hands, pointing it right at him. “That’s right, Pines! Your only option is to sprout gills, or get your ass down here.” 

The sailor laughs as he releases the boarding ladder and makes his way down. “Well officer, when you ask so nicely…” 

And just like that, he’s right there in front of her, looking so right in his Hawaiian button up and suede jacket; with the boat as the backdrop of her view, it’s like one couldn’t possibly picture him anywhere else. It was like a postcard, the perfect snapshot to a reunion she wasn’t so sure would ever come… but far from another dream, this was as real as it was the first time she saw him like this, waiting for her on the porch of The Mystery Shack. 

“Hey, Red…” Stan says softly,  _finally_ , gaze fond and full of something she recognizes, but can’t bring herself to find the name of. 

“C’mere, you,” Bri laughs, closing the space between them in a tight embrace. “Don’t be a stranger”. 

He gives a breathy laugh, sighing in relief and returning the hug with gusto. “Missed ya, Bri. I’m glad you could make it.” 

Her eyes close, savoring the warm reunion to his comfy chest as she replies, “Glad to be here.” She finally lifts her head, their eyes meeting. That same familiarity takes over, joy filling her chest. 

Stan, ever smooth, coughs into his hand to cloak a nervous smile. Bri picks up on his jitters, sliding out of his embrace slowly. 

“You look great”, she compliments. “The salty air really does wonders, huh?” 

Stan snorts, scratching the back of his head and shoving his hands back into his pockets. 

“Me? Nah nah, it’s all the fish I’m eatin’. Gives me this ‘mercurial glow’”, he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But you—y’look good!” 

“Just good?” 

He rolls his eyes. “Stunning, gorgeous, ethereal! Out of this world!” He throws his arms in emphasis. 

“That’s the right answer,” Bri nods, patting Stan on the shoulder approvingly. “So, what’s the plan big guy?” 

“Well, of course I wanna show you all the bells and whistles on this beaut,” Stan pats the side of his boat, “But honestly, I’ve been on this puppy for nearly a week straight, so uh, if y’wanna get a drink or somethin’ to eat, I’m buyin’.” 

“I thought you’d never ask! Oh—wait, uh, can I change first?” She asks, gesturing to herself in her casual outfit of flannel and high-waisted, literal mom jeans. 

“What for? I told ya, y’look  _radiant_ ,” he playfully runs his eyes up and down her body.  

“I know, and acknowledge that truth, but I’ve also been stewing in a car for hours and would love to freshen up,” she laughs. 

“Ah—right, o’ course,” Stan smiles apologetically, swinging her duffel bag over his shoulder and gesturing to Stan O’ War. “Right this way, ma’am.” 

He holds the ladder for her as she boards, then follows suit. Bri takes a look around the deck as Stan steps over, then leads her inside. 

“Well—here she is! The Stan O’ War II. Not too shabby, right?” Stan stands tall, clearly proud of this vessel he now calls home. Not too shabby at all… 

Cozy is the perfect way to describe it. Though probably not for the claustrophobic, it’s spacious enough to live comfortably. From this level, she can see all the amenities—a kitchen, dining area, even a sort of mini-lounge complete with seating and entertainment, right there by the lower hull.  

“It’s lovely, Stan. Better than I pictured,” she smiles, running her hands across a banister and admiring the dark finish of the wood. “It definitely suits you—and I can  _definitely_  tell Ford lives here, too,” Bri chuckles, taking in the various maps along one wall and the built-in shelves of samples and do-dads that she’s sure are carefully cataloged, but seem miscellaneous to the casual viewer. There’s even various artifacts decorating the main room—wait, does that fish in the fish tank have three eyes?! 

Before she can ask about it, Stan starts heading into the leftmost cabin down below. 

“This is me an’ Sixer’s room,” he explains when you’re both safely down the ladder. 

It’s larger than you’d think from above, with two full mattresses on opposite ends. Bri doesn’t even have to wonder whose side is whose, as the leftmost wall boasts scientific diagrams and notebooks on the bedside table, while the right has a framed photo of Stan and the twins, a monster movie poster, and a baseball bat leaned against the wall. Bri’s guessing Stan cleaned up for her, the sweetheart. 

“I don’t know why, but I pictured you two in bunk beds,” she giggles. 

“You joke, but we thought about it,” Stan smiles, handing Bri her duffel bag. 

“Anyways, there’s a bathroom right here. You can lay yer stuff out too if y’want. Take yer time,” he says, and she thanks him before heading back up to give her some privacy. 

Bri wastes no time in changing and primping, settling for a simple blue maxi dress and a classy wedge sandal to match Stan’s elevated-casual vibe. Plus, going pantsless after an entire day of tight jeans was just lovely. A final brush of the hair and shift of the glasses and she’s ready to go, grabbing her denim jacket and heading upwards.

Stan’s attention quickly shifts from the seaside view to her, eyebrows shooting up his forehead as he whistles. “Well,  _hellooooo_ , nurse!” 

“Oh hush,” she slaps his arm playfully, blush on her cheeks not lost on him. “C’mon, take me to dinner already, I’m starving.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

 

 “Dinner” turned out to be a couple glasses of sangria for Bri , and four Mai Tais for Stan; with the impulse addition of the shrimp kababs, it was turning out to be pretty great. 

“So let me get this shit straight, Pines,” Bri manages through a fit of giggles. “You avoided the Banshee by—” 

“Pretendin’ to be her lost baby while Ford got back to the ship for the iron horseshoe gun,” he confirms, taking another swig of his drink. “I’m a genius, I know, hold your applause for next Oscar season.” 

Bri wipes a tear from her eye, still trying to compose herself, “Stan—oh god! I would’ve paid to see that.. but  _oh_ , that poor, poor woman… you’re so mean!” 

“Look, she’s a specter of death, alright—I’d be wailin’ for eternity if we hadn’t knocked her around a lil’.” 

“Oh, I know, I know. Guess I just tend to root for the mother, y’know?” Bri sighs. 

Stan finishes his kebab, going in for yet another swig of sweet fruity goodness as he slings his arm over the back of his chair, settling in. “How uh— is that, by the way? Havin’ lil’ human copies of ya runnin’ around?” 

“Having kids? Oh, it’s fuckin’ terrible.” They both burst into laughter, snickering into their glasses. 

“No, but really, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. A gift, a privilege, no other feeling like a mother’s love, all that mushy shit you’ve heard a million times,” she swirls her sangria, plucking the orange slice from the rim and taking a bite. “But it’s not for everyone, of course.” 

Stan shakes his head, lips pursed in thought, “Yeah no kiddin’. One copy of me’s enough.” 

“Oh, give yourself some credit,” Bri says sweetly, bringing a hand to his arm. “You’re a great guy—and an  _awesome_  uncle.” 

Stan’s glances down at the contact approvingly, making no move to break away. Instead, 

Bri feels his foot tap hers under the table (mindful of her open-toed shoes), making her snicker. 

“Yeah, bein’ an uncle’s pretty fuckin’ great,” he confirms. “Get t’have all the fun, none of the college tuition outta my pocket.” 

“Bastard,” she jokes, getting a light kick to his ankle in for good measure. “But really—you give those kids a hoot and a holler, and from what I can tell, last Summer wasn’t even the half of it.” 

Stan brightens. “You’ve only heard the kid versions of the stories, too. Wait’ll you get the real deal—it’ll knock your socks off.” 

At the mention of last June, Bri’s mind hones in on those same memories from before, enhanced by the man himself being right there in front of her. And damn, he looks cute too, all red-faced and smarmy.

Bri’s foot moves from the floor ever so slightly to run up past Stan’s ankle, circling it playfully. “I’m not wearing socks, is the thing…” It gets the reaction she wants, because he clears his throat, grinning despite the blush to his ears. 

When she moves back down, then up again—higher this time, up to his calf—Stan leans in closer to her over the table, smile smug and eyes dark behind his thick-rimmed glasses. Looks like some footsie under the table was finally the sign he needed to quit the cutesy shit, as endearing as it is. 

“So, Red,” he says, gaze darting down to the cleavage at the top of her dress. 

“Yes?” She places her hand on his and he licks absently before his eyes move back up to her pink lips, finally meeting her chocolate eyes. 

“The other day, when y’said ‘pick up where we left off’… you _did_  mean—” 

“You know what I meant, Stan,” Bri says shortly, taking another sip of her drink. 

“Jesus—sure hope I do,” he cackles. 

“I want you to fuck me, Stan,” she states, amazingly straight-faced. Stan sits straight up at that, tugging on his collar and giving a quick glance around with a nervous chuckle. 

“W-well! I wouldn’t wanna disappoint,” he grins like a maniac as he clears his throat, shifting back into confidence. Suddenly, the table between them seemed like it could disintegrate at any moment. 

“You want that boat tour now, Red?” 

She simply nods, beginning to put on her jacket. Stan throws back the last bit of liquor in his tumbler and slams a handful of bills on the table. 

* * *

 

Once safely aboard, Stan wastes no time getting on with the “tour”, pouring a couple glasses of champagne as Bri looks around some more, making her way to the pilothouse window. 

“The sunset is gorgeous—you get this view every day?” She laughs, shrugging off her jacket. Stan’s made his way to her, champagne in hand and one less button of his shirt buttoned. 

“Nah, not in Alaska. The Northern Lights are pretty nice, though,” he says matter-of-factly, offering her a glass. 

There’s a moment then that Bri looks between the horizon, the bubbling glass, then the man holding it. And it’s then that she realizes she’s painted dozens of sunsets like this before, but there’s someone in front of her right now that outshines even the real thing. 

She takes the glass, silently placing it on the table next to her, hands settling instead on Stan’s exposed, hair-covered chest. She raises to the tips of her toes, bringing her lips effortlessly upon his in a tender, cathartic action that’s absolutely  _fantastic_.

Stan hums, haphazardly placing his own glass on the counter, not sparing the alcohol that spilled a single glance as his eyes flutter close, deepening the kiss with fervor. Bri nearly whimpers, a shock of desire and adrenaline shooting through her body when his tongue plays at her lips— he tastes like cherry and rum, her like citrus and mint, and the kiss is a delicious sensation cocktail all its own. 

Bri breaks the kiss to loop her arms around Stan’s neck, but as she goes back in, the glasses on their faces knock together, each pair skewing on its owners’ respective noses. They break out into laughter, the moment eased of its urgency and Stan going a bit red now, embarrassed when not caught up in the rush. 

“Bedroom,” Bri says simply, removing her glasses with one hand and taking Stan’s wrist by the other, leading the way to the cabin ladder. He goes down first, admittedly sloppy in his hurried descent, but nonetheless well enough to hold Bri steady as she follows. When she turns around he’s still here, leaning his weight against the ladder with her caught between his arms; he goes for her neck with a playful nip of his teeth, and Bri nearly feels dizzy from his stubble on her skin. 

“Fuck,” is all she can say, gripping his shirt tight into fists. “ _Stan…_ ” 

“ _Ah_ , yep. Right there,” he whispers, pulling away and looking down at her with a cheeky grin. 

“W-what?” She searches his face for a clue as to what he means exactly. Her head’s not exactly clear at the moment, and it didn’t really— 

“Right  _there_ ,” he repeats, shit-eating grin full of pure delight. He mimics her then, saying his own name in a breathy sigh as she just had when he sucked at her neck. “ _That’s_  where we left off last time.” 

Bri’s indignant for a beat, cheeks as red as the hair on her head before shoves Stan back, freeing herself from his trap and grabbing him by his shirt collar, kissing him hard. 

“I can  _hit you across the top of your head_ ,” she teases against his lips, urging him to walk backwards with her assertive grip, “if you wanna be where we  _really_ left off.” 

“’M good,” he laughs, knees hitting the back of the bed and falling back onto it, taking Bri with him. She makes herself comfortable in his lap, placing her glasses on the night stand and taking a second to turn the family photograph with the twins face-down to spare their pure, innocent eyes. 

It’s a good thing she did too, as it gets hot and heavy pretty fast cuz  _fuck_  is Stan good at foreplay. Though some may think making out childish, those kisses and pets in the El Diablo were crumbs compared to this, compared to the  _thrill_  of his fingers slipping the thin straps of her dress and her bra off her shoulders, the trail he blazes as his mouth moves to the valley of her breasts, one hand deftly massaging her upper thigh underneath the pooled fabric, other expertly undoing her bra and flinging it away. Bri giggles as he nuzzles her soft flesh, kissing a freckle here and there before making her gasp as he takes her pert nipple into his hot, wet mouth. She coos his name approvingly, lovingly, running her hands through his gray hair as he sucks and licks her, hand at her thigh slipping between her legs and to her clit, rubbing through the fabric of her panties. 

Need ravaging her body, Bri grinds down on Stan’s lap, earning a growl and lustful glare from the man below her. She draws away from him after a moment, setting to work on ridding him of his pants. 

“So, Stan… you know I take health very seriously,” she muses, hands undoing his belt, button, and zipper as she speaks. 

“Y-yeah,  _ooh_ ,” the old man groans as she pulls back the elastic of his boxers, arousal free and sensitive to the cool air. 

“And safe sex is an absolute  _must_ …” 

“O-oh,” Stan starts to sit up, reaching for his nightstand drawer and rummaging through it frantically before Bri stops him. 

“Have you been sticking your dick in any sea monsters lately? 

“W-what?  _No–_ ” Stan blanches, definitely caught off guard by the question. 

“Lizard people? Mysterious ectoplasm?” 

“Not exactly my  _type_ , so no,” he finally rolls his eyes playfully and returning his hands to her body as she pushes him back to the bed. 

“Then we’re good. Unless… you like accessories?” She says simply, slipping out of her underwear and dress completely before re-mounting him. 

“ _Sweet Moses_ ,” is all he can articulate upon seeing her nude in her entirety. Stan’s hands unsure of where to go first before settling on her ass and drawing her towards him as she feels up his broad chest then down his torso, stomach, and finally to his hard cock under her. 

He slides in, perfectly, sinfully, and they both groan at the pleasure-filled sensation, cursing under their breaths. Bri leans back, head rolling on her shoulders as she’s enraptured by the way he stretches her, how she can grind down on him just right. 

And Stan— he’s absolutely breathless, in heaven at the sight of this sexy woman, whose mouth’s agape in pleasure and breasts bounce as she rides him, red hair falling into her face and across her dark, alluring eyes. He tells her so, showering her with verbal praise and affection and suddenly Bri believes his nickname for her is the most erotic,  _loving_  sound in the world, falling from his lips in such sweet tones. 

It’s more than he can stand after a while, and in one fell swoop he flips them both, pinning Bri against the downy sheets of the bed with a growl, set to make good on his promise at dinner to fuck her so right that she sees stars. 

Bri can only cling to him as he moves, arms hooked around his shoulders and nails digging into his flesh, her desperate moans and loud profanity even rivaling Stan’s, sprinkled among the sweet nothings he pants in her ear, forehead pressed against hers. 

“Fuckin’  _Christ_ , Red, yer so gorgeous, so  _goddamn good_ — been wantin’ this for so _fuckin’ long_ —" 

The fiery coil in Bri’s belly grows tighter, molten hot as they go at each other, needy and passionate, over a year’s worth of sexual tension boiling through their veins and radiating out of their very bodies. It’s once his thrusts become erratic that he beckons her to come for him, slamming his hips into her and reaching between her legs, making her entire body tense and quake as she comes with a cry of his name and to the powers that be, Stan dragged with her over the edge with a rumbling groan. 

His thrusts slow to a stop as they both try to catch their breaths, Stan settling on top of the redhead for a moment, careful not to crush her under his full weight. They share a smile, Bri running her hands through Stan’s hair fondly, earning an appreciative hum. 

“That- shit, that was…” 

“Fucking incredible,” Bri finishes, pulling his chin to her for another sultry kiss. 

“Careful now,” he warns, shifting to her side and up to his feet, “you’ll get me started again.” 

“You think you’re up for that? ‘Cuz I’d be up for that,” she says, catching the towel Stan tosses her way and cleaning up a bit. 

Stan returns back to her side on the bed, pulling back the sheets. “Shit I’d love to—maybe you can sit on my face ‘er somethin’ while I catch up,” he laughs. 

“Fuck yes,” she laughs, letting her excitement at the idea show, “God, this weekend is going to be  _great_.” 

“I was thinkin’, actually,” Stan says, finally settling in under the covers with Bri against his chest. “How ‘bout you come with us on our way back to Gravity Falls? You could stay here a little longer and when Sixer gets back, we can head over and drop you off in Salem.” 

Bri purses her lips, thinking it over as she plays with the gold chain around Stan’s neck. 

“You… want to escort me?” 

He chuckles, taking off his own glasses and placing them next to hers on the nightstand. “Sure, you could put it that way.” 

She smiles, kissing him sweetly on the cheek. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” 

Stan grins, wrapping his big, burly arms around her before he yawns, sleep catching up to them both.

Bri’s eyes fall closed. She feels safe, warm, and oh-so happy in this man’s embrace. 

“Goodnight, Stan.” 

“G’night, Red.” 

Her dreams that night are filled with Stan— but rather than those same memories that’ve swirled in her head for months and months, it’s of this night, and of the potential the coming days hold for them together. 

**Author's Note:**

> The MILF is always right! -Stanley Pines


End file.
